LA | NY A Special Edition of The East Village







Franklin Bruno



THIS TOWN IS ALL ONE FABRIC

Dodecahedral statolatry, 
floating masonry, this architecture
has twisted enough ankles.
A Balthus in the Oval Office, 
incipient curatorial or critical storm
ten miles out.. 

Three trespassers have hooked up
the device that reads coffee grounds  
to predict a coming divorce
from the chain of his dim obsession.
The brain, where available, is a stopwatch.

The gentry decamped for Paris or Budapest
some carrying dead canaries,
while passport photographers labored 
to clear the unswept subway tracks.

He was very cautious, had to choose
had in fact to be the equivalent of explicit.

A stardom council denied
the private existence of anything in the capital,
sent him away to study Variety.

Drawn at night to a generator
at the edge of the floodlit mall,
graceful six-note patterns signaled him
to dance in a summer established
by the shackles of a single misunderstanding,
the aversion of the young to the harness.

He pulled the black invitation out of his own pocket.






Franklin Bruno Index